


Fight Me

by Xyriath



Category: Marvel (House of M), Young Avengers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-02
Updated: 2013-03-02
Packaged: 2017-12-04 03:06:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/705804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xyriath/pseuds/Xyriath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy and his grandfather have difficulties.  Magneto wins.  As always.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fight Me

**Author's Note:**

> Also a prompted fic for a friend. Set in a House of M Universe where Thomas and William Magnus grow up as heirs to the throne.

Tommy looked down at his fingers, laced together tightly in his laps, and focused intently on the lines of his knuckles.  Up one crooked wrinkle, down another.  They weren’t particularly interesting, but he had to trick his brain into thinking that they were the most fascinating things in the entire world.  If he didn’t, he was going to lose his temper.  And blowing someone’s head off in public was behavior that was absolutely unbefitting of Prince Thomas, second heir to the House of Magnus of the Kingdom of Genosha.

The door creaked open and Tommy looked up from the plush chair, attention going from his knuckles to the figure that had appeared there, angles of his aged face made harsher in the dim light.  Tom stood, latching his hands together behind his back.  This was no familial visit; this was a visit from a prince to his sovereign.  A prince with significant political influence, true, but that didn’t stop the nerves when your king was essentially ruler of the entire world.

His grandfather— _King Magnus_ —glanced up at the light.  It hadn’t even occurred to Tommy to turn it on.  Too focused on important things.  A wave of Magneto’s hand, and the light switched on.

“There you are, Thomas.  I needed to speak with you.”

Tommy nodded curtly.  His grandfather indicated that he should follow, and then disappeared back through the door.  Tommy took a deep breath and followed.

As a child, the office had been absolutely _off-limits,_ a place considered too important to which to allow young children (though Tommy in particular) any sort of access.  He could feel himself tensing as he walked into the room.  Despite the office’s resemblance to Magnus’s personal study, which held more lenient memories, the intimidation lingered.  The familiarity of the wooden paneling didn’t help: there were none of the green peppermints that he and Billy had used to steal, and instead of the plush chairs Tommy would fall asleep in as a child, these were cold, elegant, and wooden.

Though objectively it only took a few moments for Magnus to be seated first and Tommy to follow, Tommy had plenty of “speedster” time to work his mouth around exactly what he was going to say.

It still wasn’t enough.

“I’m assuming you realize that this is in regards to your brawl with Gideon LaMonte earlier.”  Magnus had laced his own fingers together, and was giving Tommy a cold stare.  Tommy felt his hands ball into fists on his thighs, but managed to keep from downright snarling back.

“It was not a _brawl_.”  Though he didn’t snarl, his tone was as cold as Magnus’s, which he knew didn’t earn him any goodwill.  Still, to be accused of _brawling_ —

“Then what?”  Magnus’s frigidity increased, and Tommy caught himself from speaking immediately.  Know better.  He should know better.

 _Should_ know better.

Fuck it.

“He _deserved_ it!” Tommy snapped, up on his feet in an instant, the movement so fast as to be invisible, his hands slamming down onto Magnus’s desk.  “He had no _right_ — _deliberately_ tried to make me look the fool—!”

Magnus’s rise from his seat was slower, much more controlled, and—Tommy hated to admit it— _regal._   He glared up at him, expression defiant even as Magnus towered over him.

“A useless endeavor, seeing as you have absolutely no problem looking the fool yourself.”  Tommy wished that Magnus had yelled instead; the quiet scorn in his voice was far worse.

“But he was—”

“I don’t care what he did.”  Magnus’s eyes cut to Tommy’s fists, which were clenched again.  Tommy noticed the look, but didn’t bother caring.  “Especially if it was involving your brother—”

“He had _no right!_   And that wasn’t even the main reason—”

“You will not interrupt me.”  Magneto’s cold, blue eyes flashed, and Tommy’s breath caught.  He couldn’t help reconsidering the wish that his grandfather would yell, not when he could become so frightening without even trying.

“You still seem _not to realize_ that your actions have _consequences._ That they reflecton all of us.  Yourself in particular.”  Tommy continued his challenging stare for one tension-charged moment before finally breaking his gaze, lowering his eyes.  “And for someone who claims that he wishes to be taken seriously politically, your conduct speaks otherwise.  It doesn’t matter what he said.  He could look you in the face and insult every aspect of your being and I would still expect you to deal with the matter with some level of _poise._ ”

Tommy’s hands slowly uncurled, resisting the urge to hunch his shoulders.  He was nearly seventeen, not a toddler, and—

And yes, he should probably have known better.

“If you have problems with someone, _particularly_ someone as influential as LaMonte, there are far more practical ways to deal with them that do _not_ involve your fists.  He should not escape the consequences, but neither should you embarrass yourself with his retribution.”  His tone had shifted from cold to downright disappointed.  “And I expect you to remember that next time.”

Tommy glanced back up at him, forehead creasing slightly.  Magnus’s eyes hadn’t moved, and something clicked vaguely in the back of Tommy’s head.  Something that he would have to figure out later, when his grandfather wasn’t looking at him like that…

“Subtlety, Thomas.”  Magnus’s hand rested on the desk as he leaned towards him.  “Subtlety is how you must learn to manage these situations, especially in your situation.  You have done nothing to earn their respect yet.  And given your prior… _reputation…_ ”  Tommy averted his eyes again.  “You need to refrain from doing anything that will jeopardize your attempt to salvage it.”

Tommy nearly protested that his actions had been in the _past_ , that he had been an idiot child at the time, but—

But that didn’t matter, did it?  If he wanted to be taken seriously…

Well, shit.  Tommy shifted back and forth, not looking back over at his grandfather.

“As this is the first time you have caused such a…”  Magnus pressed his lips together.  “A commotion, I will leave this as your reprimand.  Do it _again…_ ”  Tommy risked a glance back up, but just for a moment.  “And we will have more than words.”

Tommy pressed his lips together, nodding curtly.  “Yes, sir.”

Silence stretched for a few minutes before Magnus broke it with a few words.  “You are dismissed.”

Tommy glanced back up, nodding, before he bowed, lips still pressed together in a displeased fashion.  He _hated_ it when the old man was right.  “Yes, Your Majesty.”  He turned to go, resisting the urge to run out at superhuman speed or vibrate through the door.  He hated walking at normal speed, especially like this, but he did so.

“Oh, and Thomas?”

Tommy turned, expression slightly wary.

“I have to say that I’m disappointed.  There are far more creative ways to deliver comeuppance secretively, especially with a power set like yours.”

Tommy felt his lip twitching slightly, but refused to give him the satisfaction.  Why that would have been particularly satisfying he couldn’t say, but regardless, he wouldn’t laugh.

“Yes, sir.”  And was through the door and dashing to his next destination.

Billy would probably be more receptive to his complaining.


End file.
